Briar ⋆ Fred Weasley (2)

━ forty-nine: prophetic princess/forbidding fairy

     Briar sighed. "I'm happy as long as I get to spend thousands of Galleons on another vintage gown—"

     "Oh, not this again—"

     "I'm just saying, I'm happy with Vegas if I get to wear something vintage and designer," said Briar. Harry was frowning, which wasn't unusual in regards to the conversations he overheard between Briar and most people. Briar still saw herself as she did when she was a little human, dressing up like Sleeping Beauty and truly believing her godfather when he said she was a princess. She never lost the ability to see her own reflection and notice the similarities between herself and her favourite princess. And she didn't mind that, at all.

     Briar remembered being six years old, waking up from nightmares about the future and being sent back to sleep with Remus and Laurel reassuring her using comparisons to Sleeping Beauty, because being made to think she was just like Aurora, not Maleficent, made her younger self sleep. But her parents referred to the nightmares, her inner eye, as the evil fairy, which was fine at the time. It only became a problem when her age hit nineteen, when her brain began to settle on the thought of, you're not just the prophetic princess, you're also the forbidding fairy.

     That's what made fairy tales different to real life. Sometimes the heroine and the villain have the same blood, the same brain, the same body—

     Briar smiled weakly. "I mean, I've got the princess part down," she shrugged. Fred and George scoffed. Harry smiled. "It's the hair. I'd resemble Sleeping Beauty regardless of my clothing."

     "I still don't get Sleeping Beauty, though," Fred said.

     George nodded. "Yeah, the whole thing was weird."

     "You haven't watched it since we were ten!" she let out. She shook her head, clutching the piece of parchment in her hand, the one with the list of everything she had to do before the wedding began. She sighed. "Right. The Delacours should be arriving shortly... Your mum said she wanted to greet them, but then, I still feel like I'm intruding, considering the whole thing with Percy..."

     "She wasn't too bad this morning, considering," George mentioned. Nodding, Briar recalled her awkward attempt to stay out of Molly that morning. She wasn't good with crying people. It was the same with her and confrontation. "Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him? Oh, blimey, brace yourselves — here they come, look."

     Briar looked over her shoulder. She moved her hair so it would sit on her back, readjusted her silk shirt, and said, "Right, hopefully Liv can give me some guidance on charisma." She flashed a grin at the twins and Harry, whom blinked at the mention of the deceased Livvy, before she walked off to greet Fleur's family. "Bonjour! I hope that your journey was good — my name is Briar, I'm the maid of honour — feel free to make your way inside — of course, the bride and groom are currently getting ready, and the service will begin as planned later on..."

     She smiled at a group of girls that must've been from Fleur's Veela side of the family, because Briar felt they radiated the same sort of beauty that Fleur did. Briar looked over the grounds once more, shouted at a couple of waiters for "dicking around", and walked over to Fred, George, and Harry.

     "Right," Briar said. She kissed Fred's cheek, and looked at the three. "I need to check on Fleur, it would be wonderful if you lot could make sure that Fleur's family are doing all right, since you're obviously not going to help out with anything else." Fred and George pulled faces. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come off it. You've been standing here for the past hour. Just be nice to them, pretend you're working in your shop. Don't make any dirty jokes, though. And don't annoy them — and don't use complicated words, Fleur's said that a few members of her family struggle with English..."